


bruised boys and tin foil

by odoridango



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:26:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blow to the abdomen, kick to the kneecaps, and she could ruin him, tear him apart, but he looks up at her with feral eyes and grins widely through the blood that smears all around his mouth and nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bruised boys and tin foil

She’s got an eye like a magpie, eating up the shiny ones with her eyes, things like him, things that sparkle and flame even in the absence of light, and the rock that sinks in her stomach when she watches him take the other boys out with the fight she beat into his body is thrilling, soothing and satisfying and luxuriating in the deliberate brute violence of it, and her lips pale over the rictus of her hidden smirk and she soaks in it, soaks in the idea of what’s to come. 

Blow to the abdomen, kick to the kneecaps, and she could ruin him, tear him apart, but he looks up at her with feral eyes and grins widely through the blood that smears all around his mouth and nose and she puts him down, slams him into the ground so hard she can hear the grind of his bones, but he gets up and he laughs, and his punches, when they connect, they hurt, they hurt more than anything, and she savors it, keeps the pain ready and waiting for the moments when she can’t help but wish she could let herself go, for the moments when she watches him preach as he is wont to do, watches the futility and the perseverance, and wonders what other kinds of courage he might hide in his heart, and if maybe she broke it open, or if she didn’t touch him at all, didn’t relish the solidness of his bones, the rush of air as they spar, vicious and delighted, if she didn’t hurt him, if she didn’t let herself hurt, if he would’ve lent her some of that courage, some of that sparkle. 

His gaze is heavy, and his eyes are bright and fevered liked the high gloss of glass marbles and some days she wants to smash them out of his skull, the way they weigh down her neck, and she’d told him once that weak girls like her needed to be sneaky to fight back, and he’d looked at her, bloodied brow and clear confusion, and he’d told her that she was the furthest thing from weak. But there are things about her that he doesn’t know, and she is weak, she is jagged, and he is fever-bright and shiny and she wants a little bit of that starlight for herself, her with her magpie’s beak and claws, because her mouth goes sour even as she cares, nurtures him, beats him, polishes him up to a bright shine because even a weak, weak girl like her wants to choose her executioner. And if it’s him, he who fights her tooth and nail, chuckles at her good naturedly over the black-yellow purple bruises she put on his skin, who listens to everyone and takes everything too seriously, puppy-dumb and stupid-earnest, and too, too frank, too honest, and his gaze splits her open when he looks at her, smiles at her, thanks her for her help and she wants kick him down, wants to rip it apart because she knows what’s coming, and she knows what’s next. 

“Eyes on me,” she orders him.

**Author's Note:**

> WHERE ALL MY EREANIS AT but seriously where are you all
> 
> Was originally an Eren Week entry for the One Ship prompt.


End file.
